Return to Coronation Island
by Coal15
Summary: A drabble. The plot is in the title. It's the anniversary of the day Q crowned Eliot King, and Quentin insists on marking the occasion with a teensy surprise. The T rating is just for language, no smut.


It was one of those days where the weather changed its mind every fifteen minutes. Windy to calm; overcast to brilliant sun, etcetera. Pretty much everything but snowfall happened as Q and Eliot strolled along the shores of Coronation Island. It was the anniversary of the day Eliot _officially _became King. The day Q made his adorable little speech and placed a crown on El's head.

And even though Eliot was no longer King, his sweet nerd of a boyfriend insisted they do something special to mark the occasion. He watched Q skip rocks for a few minutes and wondered if this excursion might include another adorable speech. '_On this, the anniversary of the day,' _and so on and so on.

"Well, here we are," said Quentin, pushing hair out of his face with a smile. "The exact spot."

Eliot looked around at their immediate surroundings. "It is, isn't it? Were we coming here on purpose? And if so how the did you remember the way to _exactly _here?"

"I didn't." Quentin grinned. "I found a tiny little spell to light the path without you seeing it. Impressed?"

"I am," El nodded. "But isn't this-and not to belittle all your effort, It is so _you, _I love it_-_but isn't it the teensiest bit overboard considering I was voted off the throne?"

"Oh it's _way _overboard," said Quentin, his eyes lighting up in a way that made Eliot feel fluttered and off kilter. "I just couldn't think of any better place to do this. So. Right." He cleared his throat. "The last time we were here, _you _knelt down in front of _me_. And um . . . yeah, it's my turn."

"_Oh," _Eliot heard himself whisper, a warm shock tingling through every inch of his skin as Quentin took a knee.

"El, I . . . I . . ." the romantic gleam in Q's eyes suddenly vanished, replaced by look of pure helpless panic. "Fuck! Fucking _fuck! _I can't remember _one word _of the speech I planned!"

"It's okay," Eliot assured him with a teary-eyed smile.

"No it isn't!" Quentin whined. "I worked on it for like two weeks, and it was super romantic!"

Though he did empathize his distraught partner, Eliot couldn't help but chuckle. "You looked at me and forgot your words, Q. That more than counts as romantic."

"I guess," said the other man with a semi-mournful sigh. "Fine. Whatever, fuck the speech, I'll wing it. You and I are . . . we're already spending the rest of our lives together, that's not even a question, right?"

"Of course not," Eliot replied, still tingling.

"Cool, so . . . I think . . . yeah, let's just go ahead and do that thing where we throw a big party and everyone gives us free stuff."

El laughed loud enough to chase away several nearby birds. "I do like free stuff."

"Everyone likes free stuff," Q shrugged. "So you wanna marry me or what?"

"A-absolutely," Eliot nodded as he helped Quentin to his feet. "Absolutely yes." He putting his arms around the man's waist as Q rose up on tiptoe to kiss him.

They stood there nestled together for a long while, and everything around them was cozy and quiet, save for the lively chatter of birds and gentle waves lapping at the shore.

El rested his forehead against Quentin's. The man with whom he'd just promised to score free stuff. "Sooooo . . ." he rumbled, fishing casually, "can I assume there's a ring in the mix?"

"There is," Q replied, wrapping his arms around Eliot's neck with a teasing grin. "But you're so opinionated and fussy, I figured we should choose it together."

"Oh my _god,_ it's like I built you in a lab!" El giggled, smothering Quentin with tiny kisses. Soft little giggle-kisses. "We are going to _crush it _as husbands!"

"Yeah we are, and it's gonna be amazing!"

"The best!" Eliot agreed. He and Q started wandering lazily back down the beach in the general direction of their boat. "And you were right to bring us here, by the way. This was the perfect spot to propose."

Q shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Glad I got that right, at least, since the _actual proposal _was a disaster!"

"Oh let's face it, Love," Eliot purred, slipping his arm around the other man's shoulders. "We're both such train wrecks, a fucked up proposal is _fully _appropriate."

The couple spent most of their walk back to the boat throwing rocks out to sea and joking about all the ways they could manage to fuck up the ceremony.

THE END


End file.
